Gemotions

The weight of the past pressed down on him, suffocating him. He sat in his father’s study, the scent of pipe tobacco lingering in the air. He was meant to be sorting his father's possessions, a final act of respect. Instead, he felt a profound sense of isolation.

He pulled open a drawer and found a stack of old letters. Tucked between them, a single sheet of paper, the precise words of a typed letter. His father's letter of resignation from the symphony orchestra. It was dated many years ago.

The reason was written in short, clipped sentences: "My passion has gone cold." He was stunned. He knew his father loved music. He didn't know his father ever felt that way. He felt a deep sense of wrongness, an echo of the words in his own life. He closed the drawer with a loud thud, suddenly wanting to be anywhere else.